


Little Bee Flies Away

by Thegreatsnotdragon



Series: The Epic Untitled Love Story [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, And still in lurve, But he's not in this one, Cupcakes, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Literally can't think of anything else to tag, M/M, Married Life, Stress Baking, They're cute, What else to tag..., and a son, they have a daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 12:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14213049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegreatsnotdragon/pseuds/Thegreatsnotdragon
Summary: It's the day their daughter leaves for college, and Cas decides to deal by baking cupcakes. Well, trying to.





	Little Bee Flies Away

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm currently working on my very first fic (the first one I started writing), and it's big and long and angsty and honestly fucking killing me. I'm dead. So I needed a fluffy reprieve, and I wrote this, but then of course got an idea for an entire series and well... It's a slippery slope. I feel like this won't do very well, because people over forty are GROSS am I right!?  
> Sorry, rant over, enjoy!

Dean doesn’t cry. He’s had time to get it all out before, time to prepare; to come to terms with it. Cas _does_ cry, but just little sniffles. Dean’s pretty sure the worst is yet to come. He might be in for an emotional night.

They hug goodbye for a long time, until she basically has to shove them out the door of her new dorm room.

“Remember to call tonight,” Dean reminds her as they linger on the threshold.

Their daughter rolls her eyes. “I promise dad.”

“Or sooner, if you need something. Whenever.”  Cas interjects.

“I know, now _leave_.”

“Damn that’s cold.” Dean says, leaning over for one final hug.

“I learned from the best.” Haley replies, pulling away too quickly. “Bye.”

“Bye bee.” Cas says, planting a kiss on her forehead. “We love you.”

She basically stares them down until they shuffle off down the hallway. Cas is looking a little misty eyed again, and Dean wonders if they’ll make it back home before he erupts.

They get in the car, and neither of them speak for the entire journey. Dean glances sideways at Cas, who’s staring out the window, seemingly lost in thought.

They get to the house, and Cas just barely smiles at Dean before disappearing upstairs. It’s a small, placating smile, too polite and distant for someone who knows you through and through. Dean stands, alone in the hallway, feeling; like he knew he would, that the house is too quiet. Logically he knows the house isn’t really quieter now, their daughter was never a particularly loud or rambunctious person. But it still _feels_ quieter. Emptier.

He takes his jacket off, hangs it up and goes to lie down on the couch. Unable to stave off the flood of emotion coursing through him, he takes out his laptop and flips through a bunch of old family pictures. And maybe gets a little teary. But that’s okay. Ultimately, yes, this day has been a long time coming, and Dean can’t really say he feels sad. Sad came and went, in the months leading up to Haley leaving. Now he’s just… Remembering. And it’s bittersweet.

They went through the same thing with their son four years prior, but there’s still a difference, because then he could think; well at least we’ve still got Haley for a few years. Now it’s just Dean, Cas, and a big empty house.

The sound of drawers opening and closing pulls him from his reverie. He gets up and pads to the kitchen, and is greeted with the sight of Cas, staring down at an open cookbook with a laser focused expression. There’s flour, sugar and other supplies strewn across the kitchen island, and he’s somehow managed to open every cupboard, but (of course) failed to close them.

“Hey uh… What you doing?” Dean asks, pausing the doorway.

“I’m baking.” Cas replies, without looking up.

“O-kay..?” Dean says, because that’s… Alarming. Cas doesn’t bake. Or cook. He’s pretty much at his limit using the microwave. “Baking what?”

“I’m not… sure.” He says distractedly, flipping to another page. “Do you know if we have any cupcake forms?”

“Uh… Yeah, I think so.” He goes over and pulls one of the drawers open, taking out a hot pink tray form. He plants it in front of his husband.

“This is Haley’s.” Cas says, voice tight.

“Yeah well, dorm room doesn’t have an oven so…”

“Right.” He looks up, something melancholy dancing in his blue eyes. “Thank you.”

Dean reaches across and touches his cheek softly. “You want any help?”

“You aren’t busy?” Cas asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Nah.”

“That’d be nice then.” He smiles slightly, and leans into Dean’s touch.

Dean goes to wash his hands, and when he returns Cas is fiddling with the controls on the oven. A very quick glance down to the recipe informs Dean that yes; that _is_ the wrong temperature, and he waits until Cas’s back is turned to fix it.

They start making the batter, and Cas’s intense focus on the task brings a smile to Dean’s face.

“So is this your new thing? You gonna be a housewife now?”

“Funny funny.” Cas murmurs, pouring sugar in the bowl. “You’re very funny.” He takes another scoop and pours it in.

Dean glances down at the recipe again, and then back up at Cas.

“Uh baby… I think you might’ve used too much sugar.”

Cas looks up, eyes wide with confusion. “I haven’t put any sugar in.”

Wordlessly, Dean flips the bag of sugar over, so Cas can read the label.

“Dammit!”

“What’d you think it was?”

“Flour.”

Dean refrains from pointing out that sugar and flour look pretty different. “We can probably scoop it out, you haven’t mixed it yet.”

Cas hands him the bowl, and sinks down onto the floor, burying his head in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean says, placing the bowl on the counter and sitting down beside him. “They’re just cupcakes.”

Cas lets out a tearful laugh at that, because they both know this isn’t about the cupcakes.

For a moment he doesn’t speak, but he does take Dean’s hand, and holds on tight. Then he looks up, and his eyes are raw and vulnerable in that way that still; to this day never fails to take Dean’s breath away.

“I feel lost.” He whispers. “Like the rug’s been pulled out from under me.”

Dean lifts their joined hands and presses a kiss to the back of Cas’s. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna be fine.”

“But it’s just us now. It hasn’t been just us for twenty-two years.”

“You afraid you won’t like me now?” Dean teases, but there’s a kernel of real fear in his mind.

“No.” Cas says. “I just… We’ve been parents for so long and now…”

“We’re still parents Cas.”

“I know but… Now they’re both gone, I’m not sure I remember who I am without them. And the house is so big and empty.”

“We could sell the house.” Dean offers, which he quickly realises was the _wrong_ thing to say, when Cas’s face crumples as if Dean suggested boiling live puppies for dinner.

“You want to sell the house?” Cas says tearfully, like even saying it out loud is breaking his heart.

“No no no!” Dean is quick to amend. “That’s not what I meant.” He puts his hands on Cas’s cheek, rubbing his thumb in a tiny circle. “What I meant is that we can do _whatever_ we want now. We could have sex on the kitchen table if we want to. Just you and me, total freedom. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s kind of exciting.”

Cas gives him a small smile, but Dean can tell he’s just humoring him. He’s not there yet. He’s still at the grieving stage. Which is okay.

Dean runs his fingers through his husband’s hair, sprinkled with grey throughout. He smiles and edges closer, pressing a soft, swift kiss to Cas’s lips. Cas sighs against Dean, as if the kiss somehow gave him physical relief.

“So is that a yes or a no to sex on the kitchen table?” Dean asks, utilising the tool he often does when Cas is feeling down; trying to make him laugh.

And it works, Cas lets out a hoarse laugh, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. “As romantic as that is, I’m afraid I’m too old for anything but a memory foam mattress.”

“Hm… We’ll see about that.”

Cas rolls his eyes, and leans in for another quick kiss.

“C’mon.” Dean says, standing up and extending his hand to Cas. “Let’s bake some cupcakes.”

Cas stares at Dean’s hand like he has no plans of getting up from off the floor. “There’s no point, they’re ruined.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

Cas does get up, but he’s apparently given up on the whole baking thing, because he just goes to sit on the other side of the island, and watches while Dean uses the measuring cup to scoop out the excess sugar. Dean was right, the batter could be saved, and pretty soon he’s getting to work making the cream cheese frosting while the cupcakes are in the oven. Cas just watches, the little shit.

“You’d make a much better housewife than me.” He comments.

“Tell me about it.” Dean replies.

The timer dings, and he turns around to check on the cupcakes. Noting that they’re not quite done yet, he resolves to leave them in for another few minutes. When he turns back around he finds Cas’s eyes trained on him with a very admiring look.

“Were you just staring at my ass?”

Cas smiles innocently. “Maybe.”

Dean smirks, feeling pretty good about his chances of getting lucky tonight.

 

And he does. That night in bed, Cas clings to him with something akin to desperation. Like he needs Dean to ground him, keep him tethered. So Dean does. Holding on tight and kissing him as his husband moans, the waves of pleasure thrumming up to a crescendo.

When he was younger he used to hate the term _making love_. Because it’s cheesy as fuck, and only belongs in Harlequin novels. But now he’s been married for twenty seven years, he’s gotten over his aversion. Because when you’ve been with someone so long, you’ve done it every way, tried so many different things to keep things interesting. So still being able to make love is a fucking achievement. And sometimes there’s just no other way to describe it, like tonight.

Being wrapped around Cas, is so familiar, but it’s still somehow so easy to lose himself in it. That feeling, that nothing exists besides him and Cas comes so easily, even after all these years.

They’re both too tired to shower afterwards, so they just do a quick cleanup, and then throw a fresh sheet over the damp one, and climb back in to go to sleep.

“We’re gonna be fine you know.” Dean says as Cas settles beside him.

Cas smiles minutely. “I know, I believe you.” He plants his head on Dean’s chest.

They don’t usually sleep in a tangle of limbs, not since they were younger, but Dean’s guessing that Cas just needs it tonight. Needs to be close.

“You have a pillow you know.” He teases, wrapping his arms around his husband.

Cas lets out a big yawn and nuzzles closer. “Shut up. You’re my pillow.”

Dean smiles up at the ceiling. “Yeah I am.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> So my idea for this series is basically just randomly visiting big or small moments in their relationship, sort of This Is Us inspired, but nobody's gonna die. Next I'll be going back to show how they met, like thirty years or more back in time. Thanks for reading! Also please tell me if you spot any errors, cause I've apparently gotten too lazy to proofread shit properly.


End file.
